Newry from Warrenpoint

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Having recently been made aware of your website, I would like to share with your contributors/readers recollections of two of my Aunts; these were sisters of my Mother and part of the McCann dynasty from Newry’s most famous “arrondisement” of Chapel Street.

My Mother Jinny McCann was the youngest of a large family. Her brothers all left home at a relatively young age

Fews Glossary: T, 3

This is the 18 Arches just outside Newry

Thrush:  infection of the throat

Tick:     credit, ‘most of our goods are got on tick’

Tied:     outraged, ‘fit to be tied’

           helpless, ‘we laughed that much we were fit to be tied’

           confused, ‘you’ve got me tied up in a knot’

Wartime Joyriders!

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As a border town Newry was able to offset the worst effects of rationing.  This was accomplished by trips to the shops across the border or bus trips to Dundalk, some twelve miles away. 

Bygone memories

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I have fond memories of

 The Turning bridges: there were five such on the town section of the canal: at Sugar Island; Monaghan Street; Ballybot; and Buttercrane, where the rail crossed the canal; and Dublin Bridge. This was to allow barge traffic bound for Portadown. A bell would sound in the Harbour Master’s Office to alert people. School children used the cry, ‘The bridges were closed!’ as an excuse for their lack of punctuality.

Sawdust and Blood

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Bob Brown turned the key in the latch of his front door, gripped the lion’s-head knocker and pushed the door firmly to make sure it was locked.  He felt a strong tickle in the top of his nose and reached into his overcoat pocket for his big Irish linen handkerchief.  He sneezed into it violently.  A few seconds later he blew into the hankie, wiped it back and forward under his nose, feeling wetness on his upper lip. He coughed into the hankie several times and looked into it to check for blood but there was none. He crumpled the cloth and stuffed it back into his pocket.  Across the road, the herring-man clicked his tongue loudly to start his horse up the hill. He looked across at Bob but offered no greeting.  Bob wasn’t too concerned about that.  The man was one of the herring-chokers from Rosmoyle, and they were a queer lot.  Most of them didn’t like Catholics but it didn’t stop them taking Catholic money.  Bob was Church of Ireland  himself, but he saw no reason why other people couldn’t worship the same God in their own way.  None of them had ever done him any harm.  And what did all the Press-Button-Bs say about his church? – ‘Only a paper wall between them and Rome‘.

Newry General Holiday

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The Newry General Holiday was held in the past in September and the various transport services ran cheap excursions to other towns and cities. One of the most popular was the Great Northern Railway Special to Dublin.

Omeath

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When I was about eight years old my aunt Margaret, home on holiday from England decided to take me on an outing to Omeath. It was an exciting adventure for the trains still ran to Carlingford. 

Throwing out the baby?

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My brother P J was notorious for his obsession for unscrewing things. 

One particular day when I offered to take the baby out for a stroll in his pram, I suddenly learned how lethal P J’s tinkering could be. It was not until the pram was angled off the horizontal, literally when I took it off the footpath’s kerb in order to cross the road that I discovered what he had been up to! 

Old Woman of the Roads

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O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped-up sods upon the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!
To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph
Speckled with white and blue and brown!

Nan Rice

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Nan Rice’s pub is still there in Francis Street! But this is a tale of the lady herself, long gone, after whom it is named!

As well as a pub and a farm, Nan Rice kept a local dairy. It was said she could afford it for she was famously tight-fisted. 

Put the flag out

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My father with his foibles was not always ‘great’ with the local retailers. This made it awkward during the war and after when rationing persisted for many years, for one had to be ‘in the know’ to be sold contraband or ‘under the counter’ items. 

Light a penny candle

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My mother was a huge believer in the efficacy of prayer. Often in the local Dominican Church she would light a devotional candle for a special intention. 

At one of these times she asked my brother John if he would do this for her. Candles were then one penny each. She had no change only a shilling. He was instructed to call at Ross’s shop and ask Nellie for change.

Home Alone Kid

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My parents lived in a small two-up/two-down terrace house in Peter’s Place. It was not as it is today – mostly refurbished and surrounded by desirable residential properties. Then there was no bathroom and water was supplied by means of a water tap in the back yard. The terrace though did then back on to houses of the local ‘gentry’ which had huge back gardens. My aunts always referred to my mother’s house as the ‘Neuk’. 

School Days Over

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I enjoyed growing up in the 50’s. The music was terrific: we had live bands at our dances and traditional Irish Ceidhle Bands at the ceidhles. I must have picked up some Irish along the way as I went on scholarship to the Gaeltacht College in Rannafast in County Donegal. This happened each of the five years I spent at Our Ladies Grammar School. 

 

Time to leave school

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Each year we had a school Retreat. For three days we had nothing but religion and prayer. The whole time we were sworn to total silence, even after we went home. There were great efforts made by our brothers to force us to talk but most of us persisted nevertheless.